Would You?
by Aksannyi
Summary: It's one of those questions he asks her on a typical night, one that makes her think about how far she would go and what she would do, especially when it comes to being undercover. Tony and Ziva pairing. One-shot, though it might be revisited some day.


**Tony. Ziva. A couch. A little reminiscing. A bit of speculating. And a lot of "what if-ing." **

**This popped out of nowhere as these things usually do, started in one place and went its own way so I went with it. I started this months ago and I don't remember what I originally wanted it to be about but I like where it went so I just let my fingers keep driving the boat. **

**I don't generally do "movie/TV night" fics because they are really overdone, but I'm sure our two favorite agents spend some time together, and a sofa in someone's apartment is the best place for the conversation that's about to take place. **

**Spoilers: Nothing recent. If you're reading Tiva and you don't know of Under Covers, well, I feel sorry for you. **

**Disclaimer: Not that it was ever in any sort of doubt, but I don't own them. I find the whole disclaimer thing unnecessary since typically when infringing on copyrights they get all uppity about people making money off of their creations, and since there is not a single cent coming to me for this, (well, unless you count the parts of this that I did while at work), I don't see why I need to reiterate that I don't own NCIS or its characters. But, it's standard, so I will continue to say such things for tradition's sake. **

**Rating: T, I think I swear a little bit.**

* * *

**Would You?**

* * *

The question came out of nowhere. They'd been sitting in front of the TV, a bowl of popcorn between them, and a marathon of Auction Hunters running on Spike. For the most part, they'd sat in silence, save for a few nonchalant comments about the items found on the show. This was how they watched TV, in comfortable silence, when one of them would randomly speak up about something, usually as far away from the subject matter of the television show as possible.

"Remember when we were undercover and I told Gibbs that I wanted a divorce?" Ziva's neck snapped to her left to look at her partner quizzically at the breach of silence. She didn't respond.

"I do. 'Cause, you know, I think I regret it."

"You regret a requesting a divorce from someone to whom you were never married?"

Tony kept going, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Ziva had even spoken. "Because, after all, you were pregnant, and that makes me a complete asshole, doesn't it? Leaving you alone with a child to raise. And I haven't sent you a thin dime, either. And on top of that-"

"Tony." His name, sharply spoken. Firm. No-nonsense. So Ziva-like. And it got his attention.

"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if that op hadn't ended like, two days later?"

"Well, no, I suppose I do not. What would be the point?" She couldn't help but wonder what the _hell _had gotten into him. Then again, it wasn't terribly unlike Tony to just randomly bring up some weird scenario, either.

"Well think about it. You were _pregnant_," he said, making air quotes with his fingers. "If for whatever reason, we didn't have any leads, if we had to continue being Jean Paul and Sophie, how were we going to get out of that one? We'd already let the cat out of the bag."

"What cat?" Ziva looked genuinely confused.

"It's an expression. It means to let a secret slip."

"Why do you not just say what you mean?"

"That's beside the point. What would we have done about you being pregnant? I mean, don't you think it was a mistake to let that detail out? I mean, that's a pretty hard lie to get out of," he chuckled.

"Well, I suppose a miscarriage could be fabricated, we do have plenty of ways to fabricate any sort of record, medical or otherwise," she stated.

"Or you could have actually gotten pregnant," Tony murmured, his thoughts obviously wandering. Ziva looked at him, her brow furrowing.

"Your mind is wandering, and I don't like where it might be going," she said. She wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with her partner's mind wandering places, especially where she was concerned.

"I was just trying to imagine you pregnant. Like I did all those years ago," he advised.

"Don't," she said, and Tony's head snapped up at the word.

"Now where have I heard that before?"

"It was just as firm a warning back then as it is now."

"Why are you so afraid of me imagining you with child? I would think that as far as thoughts about you might go, that one's rather tame," he said, cracking a smile. "I mean, if you want me to imagine other things about you, I'll go right ahead, but I figured that-" she practically leapt across the couch to place her hand on his mouth.

"Try it, and see what happens," she said, looking directly into his eyes and delivering a firm warning.

"You being practically on my lap is not helping matters," he pointed out when she removed her hand from his face. She glanced down, and jumped up quickly, returning to her side of the couch and sitting down, glaring at him as she did so.

"What's so scary about being pregnant? Is it the fat thing? Because I never thought you'd be the type to be all that concerned with getting big, someone as fit as you, your shape would bounce right back. You'd have larger-"

"Do _not _finish that sentence if you wish to leave this apartment," she warned.

"No that there's anything wrong with them right now," he added, almost as though he were oblivious to the way he was acting. But Ziva knew better - Tony was _anything but _oblivious at any given point in time, a fact that she was all too aware of, which is probably why he was so damned irritating. That, and the fact that he knew exactly how to get to her.

"Do you seriously wish for me to come back over there?" She asked incredulously. How could someone as smart as Tony constantly tempt death?

"Yes, actually," he admitted, cocky grin and all.

"Well in that case, I'm staying right here."

"Fine."

"Fine."

The silence lasted approximately twelve seconds, when both of them began to speak at once. Whatever anger, real or fake, that had set in between them was instantly gone as Tony said, "Ladies first."

"Why," Ziva started, taking in a swift breath before continuing, "why are you so … _obsessed_ … with this pregnant thing? After I asked you to drop it?"

"I just kind of wonder. What would we do? What would _you _do. If you were in a deep undercover operation and you had to get pregnant for the op's success."

"If there was no other choice, I'd do it. You know that. The mission always comes first." At least it _had_, back in the day when nothing mattered but the mission, feelings and outside consequences be damned.

"Before a friendship? Think about it, Ziva. You and me, we've been friends for a long time. What if we had to … you know … to sell an op? Could you go through with all of that?" She knew that the answer was no, not anymore. Back when they'd actually been undercover together and there was nothing between them, it would have been much easier to have done such a thing. But now?

"Well, I don't know, I never thought of it. But a real pregnancy Tony? Actually becoming parents. Together. That is a lot to take on for an undercover mission. Surely married agents would be more suited to such a thing, yes?"

"Yeah, but how many married couples are there at work? Like, two? And none with a case record like ours," Tony pointed out.

"So you would do it," Ziva murmured.

"You wouldn't?"

"I'd definitely put a lot more thought into it than you seem to be doing right now."

"Oh trust me, I'm thinking about it a lot," was the reply, head cocked slightly to the side and a smirk. Yes, _that _smirk. Ziva threw a handful of popcorn at him.

"Oh, I see, this is just about you getting me to admit that I would sleep with you."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Only as an absolute last resort." She pretended not to notice that he moved the popcorn bowl out of the way and scooted closer to her.

"Lies!" he said, laughing, though the comment stung a little. _Last resort? Ouch._

They sat in front of the TV in silence again, the conversation abandoned for the moment. Ziva pretended to give the show on TV her full attention, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't get the thought out of her mind. The thought of actually going through with a full pregnancy for an op. With Tony.

And that was the issue, she realized. It wasn't the thought of going through the whole motherhood thing, in Mossad, she would have probably had the child and given it up for adoption without a second thought. Or if the pregnancy had been early enough in term, just had an abortion and been done with it. She cringed inwardly at the thought, knowing that ten years ago, an abortion would have been an option, but now, not so much.

But the thought of a child. Tony's child. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she would not be able to bear to give that up. It would be very difficult to enter that type of relationship with him - the type with actual sex and not just push-ups and fake sighs - and leave, his child in her womb and her heart in his hands.

"I couldn't do it," she said then, quietly, so that he almost didn't hear her.

"Hmm?" was the response.

"I couldn't do it," she repeated. "I couldn't just have some love child born of necessity. Not with … anyone." She almost let something slip she hadn't meant to. If Tony had noticed, though, he didn't say.

"So you'd let the cover be blown?"

"I'd find a way to end the op before it became a problem. I'd get Ducky to help fabricate a miscarriage. Something. Anything."

"Wow, you're interested in sleeping with me that much," he remarked dryly. He was taking it completely the wrong way, she realized, but she wasn't sure she wanted to correct him and let him understand the true reason she couldn't do it. His feelings won out - as much as she didn't want him to know the full breadth of her feelings, she couldn't leave his feelings to be hurt.

"Tony, it isn't like that."

"What is it like then?" He turned to face her, fully, his knee on the sofa nudging her butt as he abruptly made the turn.

"I can't just bring a child into this world for a mission. I am not ready to be a mother. I do not think you are ready to be a father. And I damn sure know that I am not ready to be a mother if you are the father. We have this … partnership, I like it. So much would change." She lowered her eyes, unable to continue to look at him, for fear that she would reveal what she didn't want him to see.

"Would that be so terrible?"

"No, of course not … but …" she trailed off.

"But what?"

She didn't answer. She had no way to answer it. How could she tell him she was scared, _terrified_, actually, to change what they had, even if it meant never seeing what they _could _have. She looked at him, and to her surprise, she saw nothing but understanding.

_He knew._

"You're right, I'm not ready to be a father," was his response, instantly shelving the other topic of conversation. She smiled gratefully.

Ziva grabbed the discarded bowl of popcorn from the table, tucking her feet under her butt as she did so. Tony turned back toward the TV and leaned in slightly, reaching his hand into the bowl for a handful of kernels. They sat in comfortable silence, the conversations on the TV and the munching of the popcorn filling the void.

Every few moments, though, Tony couldn't help but look at Ziva's flat stomach and wonder just how she would look if she _was _pregnant. And he couldn't help but wonder how he would feel if the child were his.

Maybe he was more ready than he thought.

And so it happened without thought, without preconception, that he took his hand and lightly placed it over her toned stomach, as though she _were _pregnant and he were just the expectant father, awestruck at the notion that life was hiding somewhere in there.

"Tony," she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.

"You would be a beautiful mother, Ziva," was all he could manage, and her lips were on his instantly, the bowl of popcorn once again discarded and forgotten. He ran his hand from her stomach and around her waist, to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him, reeling from the suddenness of it all, and before he could even make sense of what was happening between them it was over, all too soon, and she was sitting again on the sofa as if that _didn't _just happen.

And before he could even form words in his mouth to ask her just _what _was that, she spoke, "I would never do it _just _for an op." And the pointed look in her eyes seemed to suggest to him that she _would_, however, do it for real.

And lord, he couldn't help it, he grinned like a fool as he leaned over to kiss her again.

* * *

**And that seems like as good a place as any to stop this. I will say for those who are interested in what happens next, that they don't just head off to bed to make the fantasy a reality. They're not ready for that yet. But a little bit of lighthearted kissing? Totally. **


End file.
